The Frost Fair Part 23

'Very grand and very determined.'

'In what way, Mr Cardinal?'

'She has the highest ambitions for her family,' he said. 'She drives them on. Lady Whitcombe expects that her son - and her daughter - win at everything.'

Egerton Whitcombe paced angrily up and down the room like a caged animal. He was not accustomed to having his demands rejected. Tall, slim and striking in appearance, he was immaculately dressed in a blue doublet and petticoat breeches. His gleaming leather jackboots clacked noisily on the oak floorboards. When he finally came to a halt, he turned to his mother with an accusatory stare.

'Has work begun on the house yet?' he barked.

'No, Egerton,' she replied. 'The ground is still too hard for them to dig the foundations and the stone they need will not be brought in by boat until the ice has vanished from the Thames.'

'Then we still have time to cancel the contract.'

'I've no intention of doing that.'

'Do you know who the architect is, Mother?'

'Of course. I've met Mr Redmayne a number of times.'

'His brother is in prison on a charge of murder,' he said with disgust. 'I only heard about it today and I was shocked. We cannot let ourselves get involved with a family such as that.'

'We are not getting involved with a family, only an individual.'

'His brother is a killer. That means his name is tainted.'

'His father is the Dean of Gloucester,' she retorted, 'and that says far more about him. It's unfortunate that this other business has cropped up, I agree, but it will not affect my judgement of Christopher Redmayne. He's not merely a brilliant architect, he's a delightful young man.'

'With a criminal for a brother.'

'Egerton!'

'People talk, Mother. What will our friends say?'

The quarrel took place in a room that he had rented at a tavern in Holborn. Lady Whitcombe and her daughter were staying with friends in London but they were spending the evening with the man in their family. Hoping for a joyful reunion with her son, Lady Whitcombe was disappointed to find him in a combative mood. Let.i.tia was too distressed by his truculent behaviour even to speak. Instead of listening to an account of her brother's adventures abroad, she was witnessing a fierce argument. She made sure that she kept out of it.

Lady Whitcombe was imperious. 'My decisions are not subject to the dictates of my friends,' she declared. 'I saw what I wanted and engaged the architect who could give it to me. There's an end to it.'

'No,' retorted her son. 'I'm the person who'll spend most time in the house.'

'So?'

'I should have more of a say in who designs it and it will not be anyone who bears the sullied name of Redmayne. Dismiss the fellow at once.'

'It's too late. His drawings have already been delivered.'

'But no work has yet been done on the site. There's still time to think again.'

'Why should I do that?'

'Because I'm telling you, Mother,' he said, trying to a.s.sert himself by standing in front of her with his hands on his hips. 'Let me speak more bluntly. I simply refuse to occupy a building that's been designed by Christopher Redmayne.'

"Then Let.i.tia and I will have to stay there in your stead.' 'What about me?'

'You'll continue to rent a room in a tavern.'

His face was puce with rage. 'But you promised me a house.'

'I've provided one, Egerton. It will be the envy of our circle when it's built.'

'Not if it's been designed by the brother of a murderer.'

'Stop saying that.'

'It's what everyone else will harp on.'

'I care not.'

'Well, I do, Mother,' he announced, stamping his foot for emphasis. 'I'll not let you do this. London is full of architects. Engage another one.'

'I already have the one that I prefer.'

'I'll find someone better.'

'There is n.o.body better,' said Let.i.tia, forced to offer her opinion. 'Mr Redmayne is the most wonderful architect in the world. His design is exactly what we want.'

'We?' he sneered, rounding on her. 'We, we, we? I was the one who began all this, Let.i.tia. I was the person who explained why a house was needed in London. Given that, I should be the one with the power of decision.'

'Not unless you intend to pay for it,' said his mother coolly.

'What?'

'If the money comes from my purse, Egerton, then I reserve the right to hire the man I want. And that's exactly what I've done.'

"That's so unfair, Mother!' he protested.

'It's the way of the world.'

'But the man is unsuitable.'

'You've never even met Mr Redmayne.'

'I've heard about his brother, Henry. He's the talk of every tavern in the city. It's only a matter of time before he's hanged for his crime. And rightly so,' he added. 'I knew the murder victim briefly. Signor Maldini once gave me fencing lessons.'

"Then he was a poor tutor.'

'Mother!'

'Jack Cardinal made you look like a novice.'

'I'll make him pay for that.'

'Oh, Egerton,' she said, using a softer tone. 'Let's not bicker like this. You've been away for so long. Must the first time we see you again be an occasion for sourness and recrimination? Be ruled by me.'

'It seems that I must be,' he said resentfully.

'And take that grim expression from your face. It ill becomes you. We should be celebrating your return, not falling out with each other.' She embraced him and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. 'There, the matter is settled.'

'Do not count on it,' he said under his breath.

'You'll soon see that your fears were in vain, Egerton. Wait until you meet him,' she said with a beatific smile. 'He'll win you over in no time. Forget about this brother of his. Christopher Redmayne is a perfect gentleman.'

'Good Lord!' exclaimed Jonathan Bale, staring at him in amazement at the bedraggled figure on his doorstep. 'Is that really you, Mr Redmayne?'

'Unhappily, it is.'

'But you are soaked to the skin.'

'I've been in the river,' explained Christopher, trying to stop his teeth chattering. 'Your house was so much nearer than mine that I came to throw myself on your mercy.'

'Of course, sir. Come in, come in.'

Jonathan stood aside so that this visitor could get into the house. Hearing Christopher's voice, Sarah came bustling out of the kitchen to look at his sodden apparel. Water was still dripping from him. He had lost his hat and his hair was plastered to his head. His cloak was a wet rag over his arm. When he moved, his boots squelched.

'What on earth happened?' asked Sarah.

'I fell in by accident.'

'Fell in?'

'Yes, Mrs Bale. I lost my footing.'

Sarah took control. 'Stand by the fire or you'll catch your death of cold. I'll fetch a blanket for you. Mr Redmayne will need a change of clothes, Jonathan,' she said, pushing her husband away. 'See what you can find.'

Christopher was grateful that the children had been put to bed and were not there to witness his humiliation. Stepping into the parlour, he huddled over the fire. Jonathan soon returned with some clothing and his wife brought a rough blanket on which their visitor could dry himself. They left him alone in the parlour so that he could peel off his coat, shirt and breeches before wrapping the blanket around him. Still shivering, he rubbed himself dry then put on the sober attire that his friend had loaned him. It was much too large and the material was far more coa.r.s.e than anything he had worn before but Christopher did not complain. He crouched beside the fire and began to thaw slowly out. Jonathan tapped the door and came in. He was carrying a small cup.

'Drink this, Mr Redmayne,' he counselled. 'It might help.'

'What is it?'

'A remedy that Sarah often prepares for me. It's warm and searching.'

Christopher did not even ask what the ingredients were. When he saw the steam rising from the cup, he accepted the drink gratefully and gulped it down. It had a sweet taste and coursed through him with speed. He felt much better. Jonathan took the cup back from him and set it aside.

'Now, Mr Redmayne,' he said, 'perhaps you'll tell me the truth.'

'The truth?'

'I know that you did not wish to alarm my wife but I'm different. This was no accident, sir. A man like you would never lose his footing on the bank.'

'I was pushed in,' admitted Christopher. 'Someone shoved me from behind.'

'Who would do such a thing?'

'I wish I knew, Jonathan. Whoever it was did not expect me to get out of the water again. I was lucky to do so. The river was still icy cold. My clothing was so waterlogged that I could barely move. I flailed around and yelled until someone threw me a rope from the wharf. I was pulled out like a drowned rat.'

'What were you doing by the river in the first place?'

Christopher told him about his visit to the lawyer's office and his subsequent walk to Fenchurch Street. He had gone over ground that Jonathan himself had visited and reached the same conclusion.

'I think that the body of Signor Maldini was thrown in the water not far from the spot where my brother was found by the watchmen. In fact,' said Christopher, 'I may have dived headfirst into the Thames at almost the same point.'

'Why would anyone wish to attack you?' asked the other.

'I may have the answer to that, Jonathan. But, first, tell me your own news. Did you manage to speak to Martin Crenlowe or Sir Humphrey G.o.dden?'

'To both of them.'

Jonathan talked about his visit to the goldsmith and his second encounter with the man at the coffee house that morning. Neither man had struck him as the ideal friends on whom someone like Henry Redmayne could rely. He also had the feeling that both of them were holding back certain details about the evening they spent at the Elephant.

'I was puzzled,' he said. 'They spoke harshly of Captain Harvest yet they had been ready to share a meal with him.'

'One of them actually paid for it, Jonathan.'

'How do you know?'

'Because Henry did not have the money to do so,' said Christopher, 'and I'm certain that the captain did not settle his own bill. He boasted to me about it.'

'You've met him, then?'

Christopher took up the narrative again and explained how difficult it had been to find the elusive soldier. His estimate of the man tallied with Jonathan's own but he had learned things that the constable had not. A more rounded picture of the captain emerged.

'Did you think him capable of murder?' said Jonathan.

'Yes,' replied Christopher. 'More than capable.'

'That was Mr Crenlowe's view as well. Sir Humphrey G.o.dden disagreed.'

'I'd back the goldsmith's judgement.'

'I'd trust neither.'

'Captain Harvest did not have a kind word to say about them.'

'Coming back to this evening,' said Jonathan, pleased that his visitor had now stopped shivering. 'Did you not realise that you were being followed?'

'My mind was on other things.'

'Were there no witnesses to the attack?'